


Will You Love Me Most?

by OnlyHereForGallavich (orphan_account)



Series: prompts for my readers x [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Forever, Heavy Angst, Insecurity, Lip is an asshole, Love, M/M, Protection, Protective!Ian, True Love, drunk, insecure!mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OnlyHereForGallavich
Summary: "Can you keep me close, can you love me most?"In which Lip is an asshole, Mickey is insecure and Ian loves him so damn much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No joke, I teared up while writing this.  
> I got two prompts for insecure!Mickey and protective!Ian so here you go!  
> Chapter title and summary quote from the song 'Someone to Stay' by Vancouver Sleep Clinic. A beautiful, beautiful song you should listen to!  
> When shall I ever write a less angsty fic? Who knows, my friends?  
> enjoy xxx
> 
>  
> 
> P.s- This fic was translated into Russian by one of my beautiful readers! Thank you so much!! You can go check the translation out at   
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/5353303/13786747

   Mickey Milkovich had grown up being taught that he was to be a loud, obnoxious, obtrusive asshole. The kind that made heads turn when he entered the room, and not in a good way. Caring about what other people thought was a sign of weakness, giving a shit about their rolling eyes and slightly disgusted expressions was falling short of the Milkovich ideal. He was a Milkovich; they were like cockroaches who could survive anything. If the world ended today, it would probably be just them left. That wasn't something you could achieve if you were worrying what other people thought. Sometimes you had to shitty things in order to survive.

 

   Mickey Milkovich did shitty things to survive. He shoplifted and stole, led on random girls he had no idea of ever being with, learnt how to hurt someone in all the most painful ways. It was all survival, he told himself, he wasn't a bad person; just someone who couldn’t afford to be soft and pliant to what was ‘socially acceptable’.

 

   He wasn't a bad person; he _wasn't._

 

   Sometimes he had to repeat it in his head, over and over, just to try and convince himself of its truthfulness. Sometimes the voice in his head was no longer his, harsh and full of Southside attitude. Sometimes that voice turned into a long dead memory; the soft voice of his mother calling him her _good boy, my sweet little boy._

 

   He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was still that innocent child he had once been, the one his mom had loved. That innocent child wouldn’t have survived in this town, in their family. He wasn't stupid enough to deceive himself into thinking he deserved that kind of love anymore.

 

   Except he had. He had slipped into thinking he deserved some love from someone. From a boy. From a boy with red hair, green eyes and the widest smile Mickey had ever seen. A boy who held him like he meant something, who said his name like it was something precious.

 

   He had slipped up. Mickey Milkovich had fallen in love. And he had actually come to see himself as the person Ian Gallagher saw when he saw him.

 

   Ian didn’t see a broken, dirty, damaged mess. He saw Mickey; perhaps finding some of that innocent little boy he had buried so deep down inside himself.

 

   But just because Ian saw him as something _whole_ and _good,_ didn’t mean that the rest of the world did. It didn't mean that Ian’s siblings saw anything but that _cockroach_ he had compared himself to. It didn't mean that Ian’s siblings could see past the blood and tattoos and scars on his skin to see how gently he traced his red headed boy’s skin.

 

   It didn't mean they saw him as anything other than trash. And rightly. Mickey was trash; it was his own mistake to have let Ian’s words and kisses and love convince him otherwise.

 

   So when, one day, Fiona and Lip apprehended him outside the Alibi, he wasn’t surprised to hear their harsh words. It hurt, but it was true enough. “Look, Mickey, Ian needs stability. He needs someone who can take care of him, and your whole white trash thing isn’t going to work out,” Lip had spat out. Fiona looked down, making Mickey think she probably hadn’t meant for him to hear it said so harshly. Well too fucking bad, he thought, the truth _was_ harsh. At least Lip was saying it straight.

 

   So Mickey had ducked his head, repressing the stupid burning in his eyes, and said, “I know.” Lip had looked surprise, like he had expected fists and anger. His eyes narrowed, saying, “He deserves better than you. You think you’re some great love story, but you’re just the only option he had, okay? You’re just someone he likes to stick his dick in. What are you? You’re nothing. He deserves better.” He heard Fiona’s sharp intake of breath, her muttered _Lip!_ Mickey kept his eyes, now flooding in earnest, fixed onto the ground.

 

   There was no more dialogue from Lip. Fiona said, “I’m sorry; that wasn’t how it was supposed to come out. We just think Ian deserves someone...”

 

   “Better?” Mickey offered.

 

   “More stable.”

 

   He let out a sardonic laugh. “Don’t worry. I think he deserves better too.”

 

   And with that, he retreated back into the Alibi to drink to numb himself. It didn’t seem like he was going to be sleeping curled up next to his boyfriend tonight. Or any night.

 

///

 

   Ian was feeling panic slowly creeping up on him. Twenty minutes had passed since Mickey had texted him saying _leaving Alibi now._ And he still hadn’t showed up. He told himself Mickey had probably gotten caught up, was probably having a drink or something. But twenty minutes? That seemed a bit too long for getting distracted. Especially since Mick had been complaining about a headache since morning.

 

   Ian tried Mickey’s phone again, only getting an _It’s Mickey; leave a message._ He was getting frantic now, pulling on a coat hastily as he stepped out into the winter chill. He went to the Alibi first; and the whole moment seemed amazingly anti-climactic when he saw his boyfriend sitting on one of the bar stools. He stepped in, waving to Kev, and went straight to Mickey. He punched his arm lightly, only realising how drunk his lover was when he wobbled at the slight force. “Gallagher,” he grinned goofily, making Ian’s anger evaporate and slapping a smile onto his face too.

 

   “Asshole, I was worried,” Ian said, helping the other man off the stool, acting as his support. Bundling him closer for warmth, he led Mickey outside. “You don’t have’ta worry ‘bout me, Gallagher,” Ian heard Mickey say, forcing him to look down in confusion, “I’m... a fucking... _cockroach_.” Mickey chuckled drunkenly, but Ian caught on to something serious under the drunkenness.

 

    He chose not to respond until they got home, helping Mickey shed his clothes and collapse onto the bed. Ian kissed his forehead slightly, before attempting to get up to get him some water. Mickey latched onto his face, saying, “It’s okay, Ian. You can go. I’ll be okay,” he sniffed lightly in a way Ian knew he would forever deny, “You should have so- someone better,” He punctuated this comment by letting Ian go, laying back and stretching his arms wide as if to show just how much better Ian could do, “Not me, I ain’t good for you.” Mickey’s expression was resigned; like he thought Ian would just be waving goodbye that exact moment.

 

   Ian watched this whole display in utter shock, wondering where the fuck he had gone wrong if his boyfriend thought Ian had any desire for anyone but him. He decided that instead of water, Mickey needed some comfort instead. There was a lump in Ian’s throat; his voice seemed to be trapped by it. He just lay down beside his boyfriend, curling in to face him, tracing circles on his cheek with his thumb.

 

   “My mom used to love me, she _told_ me,” Mickey said in drunken wonderment, and Ian realised just how much he had taken it for granted that families loved each other. Mickey looked like it was the most precious gift anyone had ever given him. “And _you_ love me,” He touched the tip of Ian’s nose, smiling. “But she’s gone, and you’re going to go and no one will love me. No one loves me.”

 

   Mickey had always been a happy, horny sort of drunk. But now his eyes were glassy and he was talking about his _mom_ and _love;_ things he never talked about. Ian knew, he knew, something had gone wrong. That someone had hurt Mickey like the other boy never deserved. But his protective instinct urged him to focus on Mickey at that moment. “I love you, Mick,” he muttered, voice thick, face buried into the boy’s neck, “I love you. I’m never going to leave you. _Never._ ”

 

   With that, Mickey quietly fell asleep.

 

///

 

   Mickey groaned as he woke up, head aching and cheeks overrun with uncomfortable, dried up tears. There was a wet spot on his shoulder that he identified as Ian, realising the moisture wasn’t from his mouth, but his eyes. “Ian?” he questioned quietly, remembering the night before in bits and pieces. Jesus, the idea hadn’t been to guilt Ian into staying. It had been a clean break, a _you can go, I’ll survive without you._ Even though he wouldn’t; not really.

 

   “What happened?” Ian asked, “Mick, I swear to god.” He could hear the lump in Ian’s throat, the desperation to know what was wrong and fix it. Mickey hadn’t intended to let it slip that the Gallagher siblings had come to him. He wasn't a fucking _snitch,_ after all. But when Ian asked if it was something they did, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to him.

 

   “What did they say to you?! Mick, what did they _say?”_ Ian was up and off the bed, pacing, practically vibrating with anger even though he hadn’t even heard what had happened. “Nothing that wasn’t true,” Mickey shrugged, the hardness in his eyes making it clear that he wasn't giving up any more than that. Ian looked at him with a crazed sort of look in his eyes; something that screamed murder and anger and rage.

 

   He kissed Mickey, once, furiously, “I don’t give a shit what they said. I’m going to kill them.” With that he had swept out of their home dramatically, calling an _I love you_ as he left.

 

///

 

   Ian’s hands were shaking as he went to the Gallagher home. Not out of fear, or nervousness, but rage. Pure, undiluted rage at the fact that someone had made Mickey think that he was _leaving,_ that he wasn't worthy of love. He hated that Mickey had felt that. He hated that it was his piece of shit family that had made him feel that way.

 

   He burst into the house, clearly at breakfast time. There Lip was standing, cigarette between his lips, like he hadn’t done anything at all. Ian marched right up to him, yelling, “You fucking asshole!” and punched him on the face, “What did you say to him?!”

 

   Lip reached up to shove Ian off him. “The _fuck,_ Ian! I said what I said to keep you safe, asshole. You deserve better tha-“

 

   The words were so familiar, exactly what Mickey had said, and he knew it had entirely been Lip’s poison that hurt his Mickey. “You piece of shit! I deserve him, and he deserves me! Me and him. That’s it, Lip. He’s saved me; he saved my life. More times than I can count, and if you don’t treat him with respect, I’m going to walk out of this house and never come back, Lip. I’m not fucking around. He’s it for me, and if you can’t accept that, you can go fuck yourself.”

 

   The fervency in Ian’s voice, the rage at the very suggestion that Mickey wasn’t it for him, made Lip pull back from saying something else. He just nodded, and nodded. “Good,” Ian spat, “And if you _ever_ say something to hurt him again, you’re going to get a hell of a lot worse than a broken nose.”

 

   Ian wasn’t kidding. Lip could tell. Uselessly, weakly, he just nodded again. There were few things that shut Phillip Gallagher up, but this side of his brother was one of them.

 

   Then Ian left, slamming the door behind him, determined to show Mickey just how _worth it_ he was.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!  
> prompt me on my 'prompt me' fic or at immabookgeek.tumblr.com/ask


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